Page 109 of Of Realms and Chaos

He laughed, carrying me over to a large rock, where he set me down softly. Nudging me to make room for him, he promptly flopped downwards, so ungraceful that I could do nothing but stare.

“What?” he asked, leaning back on his hands, further baffling me.

I shook my head, offering him a rare smile. It was hard not to in these moments, when he was so convincing with his easy laughs and wide grins.

“My first time riding a dragon was when I was only eight years old. Back then, my mother—Morana—was the holder of Death and Creation. While Stella was empress, the dragons worshiped Morana. She practically lived in the skies. As soon as she felt I was old enough, she brought me here and pushed me into the caves.”

A gasp involuntarily left my lips at that. How could a mother send her son into a dragon den so carelessly? Then again, what did I know about mothers?

“She had faith that I would survive. Though if I had died, she probably would have thought I deserved it. We don’t feel like you do, Asher. But she loved me in our way, and taking me here was her showing that love. She shared her passion with me, and from that, I found Drisha. When she bonded with me, it was like becoming whole.” There was a wistfulness to his voice, showing how much he cherished the memory.

Vulnerability had always seemed so dangerous to me, like giving your enemies a weapon to slay you with. But as Padon gave me this honesty, letting me see a glimpse of the raw pieces of him, I recognized that there was strength in it too.

“That is beautiful, Padon.”

“Perhaps Likho will bond with you, and then you can feel it too. You’ll get used to riding over time, trust me. Soon, it’ll be far more fun than it is scary.” His smile was still full, but my own had fallen, the smell of him and the mountains and the air itself suddenly too much. The stark difference between this place and Alemthian was now painful in its blatancy.

“I leave tomorrow. That was what you promised,” I whispered the words, as if saying them too loud would ignite that spark of constant fury within me. Padon stiffened, panic oozing from him.

“Please, my love, you don’t really want to go back. Not when I can give you everything here. Stay another week, let me really show you what this world has to offer. I can make you happy. Just let me,” he begged, reaching out to me.

I pulled away, standing up to put space between us. Behind me, the dragons stirred, truly listening in now.

“Padon, you promised. You have to send me home. I need to go home. You promised!” I was losing control. I felt it in the way my magic—which was so much stronger here, more volatile in its desire to command and even destroy—flared inside my chest, simmering like a pot over a fire. But my magic would not put out my anger. It would exacerbate it.

Padon dove for me, his hand wrapping around my wrist and his magic pooling around us. The heat of my rooms was painful after being cold for so long as we portaled into it, the fire sending small pinpricks across my skin—warming me. He gave me no time to acclimate, throwing me onto my bed. One of the mesh curtains got tangled around my leg, the momentum of my body tearing it down. The frame above gave out, clattering to the floor and startling Wrath awake from his spot on the gray sofa near the fireplace.

“I don’t have to do anything, Asher. You aren’t going anywhere because this is your home now. Get used to it or spend the rest of your existence pouting. Either way, you will not leave me.” Padon’s face was contorted into something wholly evil—the monster I had slowly convinced myself he was not. For the first time, I was genuinely terrified of him.

Wrath grew in size, running over to me and leaping onto the bed, the growl emanating from him a promise of death.

“Silence yourself, dalistori. I made you. I can just as easily unmake you,” he said, his voice so sharp it mirrored a hiss.

Wrath jolted, his body shrinking back down to its normal size as he stared at the god he had been worshiping for his entire life. There was a distinct battle raging within him, as if the line between duty and love had been drawn and he feared stepping to either side.

“Do not speak to him that way!” I screamed, throwing a pillow at the god.

He laughed, his head falling back and his hands clapping together in mock amusement. “I think you don’t understand, so let me explain this to you.”

Padon stalked forward, coming our way. The closer he got, the more flowers on my dress—which had stayed beautiful and full thanks to Padon’s magic—withered and died. I grabbed Wrath, hugging him close to my chest as I backed slowly off the bed.

“You are mine. Regardless of how long it takes you to see the good we can be together, you will still be mine. No matter where you are, you will still be mine.” The deep tenor of his voice was full of violence and resolve, a threat in and of itself.

“I will never be yours! Sooner will I throw myself from the mountains than sit here and entertain your psychotic fantasies! I am mine!” Unable to contain it any longer, I let my mental gates open wide, my magic pouring from me in deadly waves. I felt the moment it hit Padon’s shields, the force still not enough to shatter them though he stumbled back from the weight of it. Even knowing it would not work, I let my voice drop, The Manipulator free at last. “Send. Me. Home!”

He chuckled, a dark and malicious sound. “You want to go home so badly? Fine. Then go!”

In a blink, I was gone, my feet crashing onto a cobblestone path with more force than portaling usually consisted of. My knees gave out, Wrath and I both falling to the ground in a heap. I blinked, too exhausted to move even when a heavily accented voice cut through the silence.

“What is it?” someone asked.

“Obviously a woman,” another said.

“That is no woman. Did you see how she appeared out of thin air?” The first voice again. It sounded like two men, older perhaps. The accent was familiar, but I could not quite place it.

“She is too close to the castle. Do you think she was planning something?”

Oh, great. They were panicking. I could feel it in their minds and hear it in their voices as they faltered. But at least they were speaking the common tongue.

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